


To Make A Mountain Of Your Life

by Naomida



Series: Fire Meet Gasoline [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gen, The Feast of Winter Veil, illidari - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 11:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naomida/pseuds/Naomida
Summary: Between saving the world from evil taurens, having to put up with insufferable demon hunters and fighting with the Council of Six, Lidya learns that being invited to the Keep by Anduin every two weeks isn't so bad after all.





	To Make A Mountain Of Your Life

“If I have to eat one more vegetarian meal I might lose control of the demon and kill everyone,” muttered Kayn, grimacing in disgust at his salad.

Lidya looked at it, then down at her own salad and couldn’t help but agree. The taurens were nice and all, but eating grass and all sorts of leaves everyday was starting to get tiring, and while Lidya could always summon her own food – that didn’t seem as insipid as it usually did, all things considered – the demon hunter couldn’t.

Also, she was pretty sure Ilana had left him there as a sort of punishment and she could understand why he would start to get mad.

“Do you want a mana roll?” she asked when a muscle in his jaw jumped.

“I’d eat an Eredar at this point.”

Snorting, Lidya summoned him a dozen of rolls and watched with amusement as he shoveled them in his mouth without any dignity.

They had spent the last three days fighting off drogbars and Kayn had spent the entire time muttering under his breath that it was useless and he should be fighting the Legion instead. Lidya had to admit that she agreed with him, just a little. She had a mission here, after all, to find one of the Pillar of Creation, and while the end goal made it easier to go on and do stupid things like kick fishes back in the water, she knew that Kayn’s only goal was the end of the Legion, and so far they hadn’t seen any demon.

“I can portal you back to Dalaran, you know?”

Judging by the way he tilted his head, Kayn sent her a side glance before shrugging a shoulder. “I have your hearthstone.”

“I know,” replied Lidya, rolling her eyes, “but let’s say I make a portal to Dalaran and accidentally shove you through it and close it once you’re on the other side, I don’t think Ilana will be able to be mad at you.”

Kayn snorted.

“Thanks, but I’m fine for now.”

“Alright.”

  


  


***

  


  


Lidya was back in Dalaran for an entire night and clearly intended to make the best of it – and by that she meant sleep in her own very comfortable bed. She still had two clans to rally in Highmountain but trusted the taurens there to survive for ten hours without her and since Kayn had received direct orders from Ilana to come back earlier in the day, she also knew she didn’t have to worry about him killing anyone just because he was too bored and growing mad.

Demon hunters, it turned out, weren’t really good at waiting around for some sort of action to come.

 _Anyway_ , she thought, smiling to herself as she stepped into the elevator that would take her to the mage quarters in the Violet Citadel. Technically, she should have been housed in the highest floors, now that she was _almost_ an Archmage in title, but she had asked to have her old bedroom back and was, as a result, staying with the senior apprentices – not that she minded, quite the contrary. Everyone had heard terrible stories about what happened on the Archmage floors. Explosions and fires, which were common in any place with more than two mages residing, weren’t even a quarter of the incidents happening there, although the Archmages, conscious about the fact that Khadgar was still technically new, were trying their best to behave.

There was a bet going on and each day drew Lidya closer to victory.

She got off the elevator with two other mages, a gnome and a worgen who both looked dead tired, and started walking in the direction of her quarters with a quick pace, already able to feel the softness of her mattress under her body. _Oh_ , _how she missed her bed in these dire times_.

She passed in front of the common room – a giant library with enough books and couches to make anyone salivate and that served as the room where everyone met, whether to drink or study – sidestepped a small group of apprentices in colorful robes and almost smacked into a troll but managed to keep on walking without incident, but something caught her attention at the very corner of her eyes and, as she did a double take she couldn’t dodge a running human who almost made her tumble down on the floor.

She swore, loudly, as the human continued to run without a single word and everyone present in the corridor turned to look at her, including the person who had caught her attention.

He was dressed exactly like her, save for the cowl and the fact that his armor was in black and red compared to her soft purple and blue.

He blinked and she blinked right back at him.

The group of mages standing almost between them seemed to sense the tension in the air and quickly shuffled away, the troll Lidya had almost run into nowhere to be seen, and she watched with something a little too close to apprehension as the elf staring at her approached.

“Archmage,” she said once he was only a few steps away, slightly bowing her head.

“Conjurer,” he replied with the same gesture. “Congratulations on the Tirisgarde.”

“Thank you.”

She didn’t add anything, glad for her cowl hiding her face as Aethas Sunreaver tried to give her a polite smile that mostly looked like a grimace.

“So they let you back in, huh?” she finally said after too long.

“I, uh...” he cleared his throat, looking embarrassed, and nodded. “Yes. They did.”

“Good,” replied Lidya, Felo’melorn suddenly feeling heavier than usual at her side, “I’m glad.”

He gave her a small nod and she took it as a sign that she could leave, so she did, walking maybe a little too fast for it to look as anything other than a hasty retreat – which it totally was.

Once in her bedchambers she quickly took everything that she was wearing off and climbed into her bed with the firm belief that maybe wrapping blankets around her and pressing her face into soft pillows would make all the terrible things that had happened during the purge of Dalaran disappear.

  


  


***

  


  


The next morning found Lidya back at Thunder Totem, with a new demon hunter waiting for her.

“And you are?” she asked when he joined her and started walking next to her as she joined the flight master.

“I’m Belath,” he said, almost a groan. “Ilana wants me to stay here for a few days before she can take my place and help you with whatever you are doing here,” he added with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

Lidya raised an eyebrow under her cowl before deciding that whatever this was was probably better than a frustrated Kayn. At least she hoped.

“Alright,” she sighed once it was clear that he wouldn’t add anything else.

There was a mask hiding the upper part of his face, but judging by his pursed lips and tense jaw, he wasn’t really happy to be here either, but he paid for a gryphon and didn’t say anything as they traveled North to a new day filled with quests and exciting adventures.

Or at least that was the plan, because after an entire day looking for anything to do, they came back to Thunder Totem with nothing but achy feet and, in Lidya’s case, a large cut on her palm from a tree. It was a little ridiculous, to think that she was here to fight the Legion and the only injury she had to show for it right now was a stupid cut.

She teleported herself back to Dalaran that night, knowing that she had matters more important there than anything that had to be done in Highmoutain.

Unfortunately Lidya didn’t quite managed to go to sleep in her bed that night, because she found a disheveled high elf waiting in front of her bedchambers who immediately pounced on her, eyes looking a little crazy.

“I came as soon as I heard!” he told her, grabbing her by the shoulders and very slightly shaking her.

“What?” she asked, frowning but not shouldering him away.

“Archmage Vargoth’s disappearance.”

“Ah...”

His eyebrows shuddered and did something strange that clearly conveyed that he was brokenhearted to hear that and Lidya couldn’t help herself. She gently grabbed him by the wrist, took his hands off her shoulders and slowly started stirring him away from her chambers.

“Listen,” she said, keeping her voice down because as much as she trusted the Kirin Tor, there were things that were better kept between the members of the newly reformed Tirisgarde, “I don’t know what you heard and how you heard it, but you don’t have to worry about a thing. I know him, although not as much as you, and I know there’s no way he would willingly join the Legion. I’m working on it. I’ll find him and make sense of it all, but in the mean time you need to keep your calm, okay?”

He nodded, eyes wild.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To Archmage Modera. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be by yourself right now.”

“You’re right,” he murmured.

Lidya gave him an encouraging smile and continued stirring him in the direction of the elevator that would take them to the Archmages’ floor, hoping the Archmage she wanted to see was there and not out in the wild.

Ravandwyr kept quiet up until Lidya and a very concerned looking Modera sat him down on a plush chair, and Lidya quickly got away, trusting Modera to calm him while she hunted Khadgar down.

She found him in his own private chambers, clothes and hair in disarray and squinting down at a huge tome filled with runes.

“Ah, Lidya!” he exclaimed as she let herself in and closed the door behind her, “I’m happy you’re here, I was just going to send someone for you, I just found the most fascinating–”

“We need to find Vargoth asap,” she cut him.

He blinked with surprise and put his tome down, slowly getting up from his chair and nodding.

“Alright,” he said, “we’re already working on it, as you know.”

“Yes, I do know, but we need to work faster!”

Khadgar frowned.

“Has something happened?”

Lidya pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a second. “Ravandwyr just ambushed me,” she sighed, “and I want to find Vargoth anyway. I _can’t_ believe he’s betraying us and joining the Legion.”

“I see...” sighed Khadgar, stepping closer, “I know that you were adamant that we keep the situation a secret from Ravandwyr for as long as possible, but now that he knows the truth maybe he’ll be able to help us. After all, I’m sure he knows a lot more about Archmage Vargoth than any of us.”

“I don’t know… He looked a little too shook to be able to help us. I left him in the care of Modera while I try to find a new lead or clue as to what happened to him.”

Khadgar nodded solemnly. “And I’ll keep looking for anything that could help us in the Hall of the Guardian’s library.”

“Thanks,” replied Lidya, meaning it.

The Archmage replied by putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly, offering her a warm smile and a glass of wine that she gladly accepted.

  


  


***

  


  


The next day, Lidya came back to a Thunder Totem void of any Illidari. She didn’t know where Belath had gone to and there was still no sign of Ilana, but she figured it wasn’t that important. Nothing major had happened yet and she didn’t see why a simple visit to the last tribe, the Bloodtotem, would be any different.

She was, it turned out, very _very_ wrong.

Needless to say that she didn’t leave Highmountain or sleep a lot for the following week, and when everything happening there – the drogbars, the _Fel_ totem tribe, _the hidden black dragon_ – finally came to an end during the terrible battle of Snowblind Messa, she was glad to be able to go back to Dalaran and rest a little.

Ilana apparently had other plans for her, because she managed to grab her by the arm in the middle of the perpetually busy Krasus Landing just as she was arriving and determinedly pulled her in the direction of the other side of the city.

“Glad to see you too,” sarcastically remarked the mage when Ilana said nothing – didn’t even spare her a glance over her shoulder.

“Don’t start, you had all the fun without me,” grumbled the demon hunter just as she was stepping into A Hero’s Welcome.

Lidya rolled her eyes, because _of course_ this was where she was getting dragged, because a demon hunter’s idea of down time was torturing information out of demons and watching other people squirm in fear in their presence, like the only other patron in the tavern did when Ilana walked past him.

She didn’t stop at a table though and walked into the kitchen, cutting Nomi off with a hiss before he could speak, and walked down the stairs leading to the caves.

Down there Lidya was surprised to find a huge table with five chairs, Varian Wrynn sitting on one of them and drinking from a huge glass of wine while Kayn was sharpening one of his glaives.

“What’s going on?” asked Lidya once she was at the bottom of the stairs and Ilana had finally let go of her arm.

Varian looked up at her, choking on his sip as he loudly put his glass down on the table.

Kayn didn’t even twitch.

“Khadgar wanted us to tell you the news somewhere private,” said Ilana as Varian sat up on his chair, put his elbows on the table and linked his fingers together.

“Something happened at the Exodar,” he said.

Lidya frowned, her mind quickly going through all the Draenei she cared about – but none of them were anywhere near the ship.

“They lost their naaru,” added Ilana after a small pause when Varian didn’t continue.

A memory flashed in front of Lidya’s eyes, of the Prophet sacrificing himself in their last attempt to save Karabor, and she heavily sat down on the last step of the stairs, feeling like her insides were shaking.

“Someone died?”

“Prophet Velen is safe and sound,” immediately replied Varian, his eyes firmly planted on Lidya’s face but she refused to look at him.

She kept staring at the pommel of Felo’melorn, internally repeating to herself that she wasn’t on Draenor anymore, that Archimonde was really dead.

“Tell me exactly what happened, please.”

Ilana took a step in her direction and started talking, keeping her voice low, her tone professional. She sounded completely detached from what had happened, which greatly helped Lidya process it.

“So what now?” she asked once Ilana was finished.

“The damn naaru Xe’ra wants to send me on bullshit missions to see Illidan’s true nature or some bullshit like that,” she replied, making Kayn snort loudly, “but I think our goal is the same: bring him back.”

“Okay,” nodded Lidya, taking a short but deep breath in before getting up, “let’s do this then. Is there anything else?”

“No,” replied Ilana.

“How was Highmountain?” asked Kayn before she could add anything else.

“Crazy, actually. I’m gonna need some help to get the Pillar of Creation.”

“Perfect,” replied Ilana, grinning dangerously, “I feel like killing something big and dangerous.”

Lidya rolled her eyes but she let Ilana walk to her to grab her arm once again and lead her to one of the chairs so she could give them more details.

  


  


***

  


  


In the end, Lidya and Ilana planned their attack on Neltarion’s Lair and the drogbars for all of twelve minutes the next day before finding a paladin, a shaman and a rogue and flying to Highmountain with them to get the hammer back.

They got it with almost no problem – if you didn’t count everyone almost dying under piles of rocks that were falling from nowhere as a problem – and Lidya teleported everyone back to Dalaran for a well deserved rest.

The mage managed to get an entire night of peace that she made the best out of by sleeping like the dead in her _very nice_ bed before the next morning brought its new source of stress: a new letter bearing the seal of the Royal House of Wrynn.

She sighed deeply and contemplated not even opening it, but Kalec and Khadgar were both sending her curious and excited looks that reminded her that she probably _had_ to open a letter from her King.

She wished she was surprised to find another invitation for dinner that night.

“The King is inviting you to dinner, huh?” asked Ravandwyr as he passed behind her to sit down next to Khadgar.

“Don’t read over my shoulder,” she replied, glaring while he smirked and started eating his breakfast.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t reply.

“It’s not like anyone would be surprised by it,” said Khadgar, looking contemplative for a moment before Lidya sighed, caved in and deposited her apple in front of him, which earned her a toothy grin, “you _did_ save Varian’s life.”

“I know, but I’ve already been invited to one awkward dinner, isn’t that enough?”

He exchanged a small frown with Kalec but the dragon kept his mouth shut when she turned to him.

“It is strange,” replied Khadgar, taking a huge bite of the apple and chewing slowly, “or maybe not. King Anduin likes you, doesn’t he?”

“I guess,” shrugged Lidya.

Khadgar wriggled his eyebrows and received an elbow between the ribs that had him yelp in pain while Kalec loudly made fun of him.

“I’m never talking to you,” announced Lidya once everyone was calm again, “ever again.”

Khadgar rolled his eyes. “We’ll see about that next time you need a favor and go ask Archmage Karlain.”

“I’ll be fine, Modera likes me.”

“She’s got a point,” said Ravandwyr.

Khadgar’s outraged answer was drowned out by Kalec’s loud and weird snorting.

  


  


***

  


  


Lidya had sneaked Ilana into her chambers and forced Ravandwyr to tag along because she felt bad to see him spend all his time obsessing over Vargoth so they could help her get ready for the dinner.

Unfortunately, both were elves and had a very particular idea of how one should dress to meet their king.

“I look ridiculous,” declared Lidya, closely watching her reflection in the mirror from head to toe.

“No you don’t,” replied Ilana.

“You’re blind, of course you’d say that.”

Lidya snorted as Ilana playfully punched her in the shoulder.

“You do look great,” said Ravandwyr after a moment when she did nothing else.

Lidya met his eyes in the mirror, reaching to fiddle with one of the _many_ earrings on her left eat, and offered him a tense smile.

She was wearing a dress, _again_. The only problem was that this one was a lot more formfitting, and showed off not only her cleavage but also her shoulders. She had put her foot down when they had suggested backless and regretted not having done the same for the cut out shoulders. It wasn’t like she was going to be cold, but it felt weird to have this specific part of her body on display when she usually wore pauldrons.

The shoes Ravandwyr had provided had tiny heels that clicked every time she walked on the hardwood floor of her room and felt like they would fall apart if she so much as walked too fast on uneven floor – but that wasn’t the worst.

The worst part was her hair.

Ravandwyr, as any self-respecting High Elf, knew a spell to grow it longer and had done so, giving Ilana enough length for her to do Lidya’s hair up in a complicated but elegant hairdo that was probably going to give her a migraine in a few hours.

And then there was all the jewelry. She didn’t even know where it had come from. Some of the necklaces and the rings were hers, but the earrings and bracelets and the one golden thing that fell on her shoulders and cleavage in elegant twirls had been provided by the two elves with a small shrug from Ilana when she had asked for their origin.

“Seriously,” added Ilana, putting her hands on her shoulder and stirring her away from the mirror, “you look great and everyone will be impressed.”

“I don’t care about impressing anyone,” she replied while both elves gave her a look that clearly showed they didn’t believe her but were nodding along to please her. “Seriously, I’m only going because it would be weird otherwise.”

“Say hello to Greymane for me if you see him,” only replied Ilana.

“And don’t do anything to your hair when you come back later, I’ll take care of it in the morning,” added Ravandwyr.

“Anything else?” asked Lidya, rolling her eyes.

“Have fun,” said Ravandwyr.

“Don’t do anything a shivarra wouldn’t do,” grinned Ilana.

Lidya scoffed and started casting a teleportation spell to Stormwind instead of replying.

  


  


***

  


  


Lidya felt relieved when she realized that this dinner wasn’t going to be just four people like the last time for about two minutes before she realized that out of the hundreds of people there, she didn’t know anyone.

The good news was that thanks to Ravandwyr and Ilana she wasn’t tragically under-dressed, but no one really paid her any attention and when she tried to start a conversation with a woman who seemed about her age, she was completely ignored.

After that, she contented herself by staying near a wall, eyes turned to the balcony on the other side of the room, wondering why she had even come. She was starting to grow hungry but was a little too intimidated by the huge crowd of people standing near the food buffet.

The drinking buffet however…

She strode to it with steps as quick as she could manage in those shoes and drowned a flute of champagne in one sip when she arrived, raising an eyebrow at the gaping barman.

“It’s been a long week,” she said.

He offered her a rueful smile. “Want something stronger?”

“No, thanks. It wouldn’t do to be drunk so early into the night.”

“That, it wouldn’t,” he replied, putting down another champagne flute in front of her and offering her a wink when she grabbed it and made to turn around and go back to her wall. “Come back whenever you start to feel lonely, okay?”

Lidya smiled. “I will,” she promised, leaving the buffet.

Someone slipped next to her five seconds after she had returned to her spot.

“So you came after all.”

She turned to look at her number two favorite Archmage – because Modera was always number one – and offered him a warm smile.

“Of course, but I didn’t know you were invited too.”

“As if I wouldn’t be invited,” replied Khadgar, pretending to scoff. “You look nice, by the way.”

“So do you,” she replied, looking down at his unusually nice clothes.

He did clean up good when he wasn’t wearing his good old trusty outfit – not that he didn’t look good in it, but seeing him wear something else for a change was nice.

“So,” he sighed after a moment, “you don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

“It’s because I’m not.”

He smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling with it. “May I know why?”

“Because I don’t know anyone here, except for you, my invite never mentioned that it was a _ball_ , so I’m not wearing shoes that would allow me to dance and have some fun, and no one is willing to speak to me except some old Archmage and the barman.”

“But that old Archmage is handsome, isn’t he?”

“So handsome that all the noble ladies are jealous I have his attention,” she replied with a smile.

Khadgar chuckled warmly and gently squeezed her arm.

“I’ll go hunt for something to drink and someone you might know, alright? If you don’t move and I don’t get too lost, I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“Take your time.”

He offered her one last smile and a nod, before disappearing into the crowd.

  


  


***

  


  


Khadgar did _not_ come back after ten minutes.

In fact he didn’t come back at all, but Lidya was fine with that as soon as the music started playing and everyone joined the middle of the room to dance, freeing the food buffet for her.

She knew Anduin was in the room, because everyone had gone quiet and turned to look at the door at some point, but she hadn’t been able to see anything and had only heard whispers of his name from excited young nobles – and what kind of young noble wouldn’t be when the king was their age and not married yet?

Not that any of this mattered, because for now Lidya was stuffing her face with tiny little _things_ that tasted great and totally new, she was sipping at her by now warm and bubble-less champagne and was perfectly happy. She’d probably be able to leave in only an hour, teleport back to her bedroom and sleep a good eight hours – which sounded perfect.

Of course it was that moment that Khadgar chose to come back.

“There you are!” he called, smiling brightly as a scowling Varian followed him to the buffet, captivating the attention of everyone in a ten meters radius around him. “I couldn’t find you and was scared you had run off!”

“Not before tasting the food,” replied Lidya, putting her flute down on the buffet and addressing a small bow to Varian, “High King.”

“Lidya,” he replied, his eyes on her hair rather than her face.

He didn’t say anything else and Lidya, feeling like everyone was staring at her, turned to Khadgar for help.

“Well,” said the Archmage, his smile going even wider as he met her eyes, “you look a look happier than when I left you, maybe I shouldn’t have come back.”

“It’s the food making me smile but I swear you were good company too.”

“Wait until I get Kalec and he hears you say that,” said Khadgar with a wink before he was disappearing into the crowd – and it almost looked like he had just blinked away, which was _such_ poor taste, it was the oldest trick ever for mages, he could have done a lot better.

Still, she chuckled at his antics and turned back to the buffet to grab her flute, and it dawned on her that Varian was still there when she turned around and came face to face with him.

He immediately turned to the buffet too and grabbed what Lidya had first assumed to be salmon on tiny toasts but didn’t taste like it at all, and popped it in him mouth without ceremony, chewing slowly, his eyes staying firmly turned on the rest of small toasts.

Lidya cleared her throat, grabbed one of the same instead of reaching for her glass and ate it slowly too, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

Sure, they weren’t friends, or even acquaintances, and having sex out of grief that one time in the middle of the winter night didn’t make them close or anything – and _Light_ , Lidya didn’t even know if he remembered or knew that it had been _her_ – but still. He hadn’t ever been this strange around her before she had saved his life, and it was making her extremely uncomfortable, because she didn’t know whether he was ashamed of being saved _by her_ or needing to be saved at all, but between that and Anduin’s strange attitude, she was starting to think that something was seriously wrong.

After all, if both members of the royal family hated her, they wouldn’t invite her to the Keep, right?

“You’re not dancing,” suddenly said Varian, bringing Lidya back to the current moment and almost making her jump in surprise.

“My shoes don’t let me have this privilege,” she replied, grabbing her flute and taking a quick sip to hide her surprise, “what about you. You aren’t dancing either.”

“I don’t really enjoy it,” he replied in a low voice that forced Lidya to look up at him and draw just a tiny bit closer.

“What a shame. They all look like they’re having the time of their life,” she replied, gesturing at the room at large.

Varian smiled ruefully as he followed her gaze. “They do,” he said, something passing over his face, “maybe I should follow their example.”

“You would make a lot of women happy.”

He chuckled and turned to look at her. This close, she could see that he had tiny wrinkles around his eyes, just enough to remind her of his actual age, that he was probably closer in age to her parents than herself – he had a son the age of her little sisters, after all – and for some reasons she had never realized that before.

She was so used to talking with century old elves and draenei, she had never stopped to think about this very human man.

“If you wear better shoes next time, maybe I’ll consider it.”

She nodded, her brain taking an extra second to make sense of what he was saying, and once it was fully clear to her she couldn’t help but duck her face and take another sip of tasteless champagne, feeling like she was losing control of her internal temperature and accidentally letting it grow too hot.

He was still looking at her when she finally felt in control again and looked up so she decided to speak her mind.

“What makes you think there will be a next time?”

“Because I know my son,” he replied, a tiny smile curling his lips, softening his face for an entire second before he was grabbing another tiny toast from the buffet and turning away from her, facing the crowd of dancing nobles and dignitaries, back to his scowling self.

Lidya, feeling like her head was spinning, put her flute down and followed his example by going back to eating as much food as she could without being impolite.

  


  


***

  


  


“That’s _weird_ ,” said Ravandwyr the next morning when she told him everything that had happened at the ball, his fingers and soft arcane magic running through her hair.

“I _know_! And the worst part is that he didn’t say anything else for the entire twenty minutes he spent standing next to me after that. It’s like his son and him have decided to slowly mentally torture me, and I can’t figure out why.”

“Maybe they’re trying to say thanks and don’t know how?”

“Or maybe they’re just sadistic people,” she replied, shrugging a shoulder as a huge chunk of hair just disappeared before her eyes. “And you _have_ to teach me how to do this.”

“Let me guess,” he smirked, starting to work on a new strand, “it would have saved you a lot of unnecessary trips to the hairdresser because of careless fireballs?”

“Ugh, yes!” she groaned. “Being a fire mage is fun but short hair is the price I have to pay for it, unless...”

“Sorry,” he said, smiling and not looking sorry at all, “family’s secret, I would have to kill you if I told you.”

Lidya rolled her eyes but still chuckled and let him work his actual magic on her hair, continuing to bitch about strange Wrynns as he went.

  


  


***

  


  


“Back to short hair so soon?” asked Khadgar when Lidya entered the Council’s command room later in the morning.

She shrugged a shoulder instead of answering and went to sit next to Modera at one of the chairs. Ansirem didn’t spare her a glance, although he was sitting on the other side of the round table, right in front of her, but she decided to ignore him. He had always been kind of weird to her and she didn’t like him anyway.

She smiled at Kalec when he entered and watched him sit down to Modera’s right. No one said anything, and they all looked pretty calm, but Lidya had no idea why she was here – the guard who had come to tell her she was expected had just said “The Six would like to see you in ten minutes” before leaving – but at least nothing was on fire so she guessed it couldn’t be that bad.

Then Karlain strode into the room, the doors dramatically closing behind him, and he looked right at her with severe eyes.

“Meryl is probably dying, one of the Six is nowhere to be seen and probably with the Legion as we speak and half of the continent has already joined the enemy. Do you have any good news?”

“I got another Pillar of Creation?” she said, making it sound more like a question than anything.

His face relaxed, just a bit, but not enough to make Lidya feel like she could relax.

“It’s good, but we need more than that.”

“I’m doing my best and sending my men out on scouting missions to find Vargoth as much as I can, but we don’t have enough recruit and no lead whatsoever.”

“I’m looking for a cure for Meryl,” added Khadgar when it was clear that Lidya’s answer wasn’t enough.

A silence followed, making Lidya feel even more uncomfortable.

“What do you need, exactly?” finally asked Modera, looking into Lidya’s eyes.

“Time.”

“We can’t afford much more time,” replied Ansirem, casting her a scalding glare.

“You can take matter into your own hand and find Archmage Vargoth yourself then,” she replied, glaring back.

Ansirem jumped to his feet at the same time as Khadgar, who immediately raised his hands in the universal sign to calm down and tried to talk but one of the plants on the table caught on fire before he could form a complete sentence and things quickly dissolved into a chaos after that.

  


  


***

  


  


“I need a fucking holidays,” muttered Lidya as she sat down next to Ilana at the table in A Hero’s Welcome’s basement and accepted the glass full of alcohol Varian handed her.

“Did you just fight another fire mage?” he asked, pointedly looking at the burnt remains of her right sleeve while she took a big gulp of the glass’ content.

“I just fought the Council of Six, minus one,” she replied, kicking Ilana under the table when she started to cackle. “Shut up, Karlain was finally starting to like me and now I have to start back from scratch. I’m pretty sure Kalec will start to call me his “mortal friend” again, as if he wasn’t mortal too...”

Varian snorted, and Lidya let herself glare at him too before she was drinking again.

“What’s happening, exactly?” asked the demon hunter.

“And should I be worried?” added Varian.

“It was Kirin Tor’s nonsense and no, you don’t have to worry, because as soon as I get Vargoth back and save the entire planet, they’ll be tripping over each other pretending they believed in me since the beginning.”

“Mages are weird,” muttered Ilana.

“Politics suck,” added Varian, raising his own glass to Lidya, who clicked hersit against it before drinking again, feeling a little better that those two were hanging out in a basement like creeps and would share her frustration with her. “By the way, what happened to your hair?”

The question was so surprising, for a second Lidya just frowned at Varian, wondering what the fel he was talking about before she remembered that he had seen her with long hair not even twelve hours before.

“Arcane magic performed by an elf,” she said, running fingers through her extremely short brown hair. It didn’t even reach her nape at the back of her head, and she took care to only keep it long enough so she could tuck it behind her ears, not a centimeter more.

Varian nodded, his eyes turned to said hair, and Lidya pretended that she couldn’t see Ilana’s smirk from the corner of her eyes.

“Was it always so short?” he asked after a moment, looking down into her eyes.

“No, I think it was long the first time we met.”

He frowned and put his glass down, leaning on his elbows on the table so he was closer to her. “Really? I don’t remember.”

“Meeting me or me having long hair?” she asked with a grin, making him roll his eyes.

“I’ve met a lot of mages in my life, alright.”

“It’s fine, I’m not taking it personally, you’re the King after all.”

“ _Was_.”

“Was, yes, I keep on forgetting. How should I even call you, by the way? Since Anduin is His Majesty now...”

“Varian would be nice,” he said and Lidya felt proud that her little smile didn’t falter even as her heart weirdly missed a beat.

She nodded, ignoring the way Ilana was gently but insistently kicking her under the table, and managed to find her voice again.

“Alright, Varian.”

An awkward silence followed, that Ilana thankfully broke after only a few seconds by asking Lidya what she was up to next.

“Khadgar wants me to check out something weird that’s happening off the coast of Suramar. To be honest I didn’t really pay attention when he was telling me, I was too busy running from Modera’s blizzard, but it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Come back here when you’re done, I’m sending Marius to Highmountain so he can set up a camp there and you know the place better than me.”

Lidya sighed, took another sip of alcohol, finishing her glass, and nodded.

“Okay. I should be back tomorrow morning, top,” she said as she got up from the chair.

“You’re already leaving?” asked Varian, standing up too because of his royal upbringing.

“You know how it is, the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back,” replied before respectfully bowing to him, nodding to Ilana and leaving.

  


  


***

  


  


Of course, having expected a quick recon mission, Lidya found herself only coming back to Dalaran five days later, completely out of mana, covered in naga blood and ready to strangle Khadgar with her own two hands.

A demon hunter, a warrior and the very mage she wanted to kill jumped on her as soon as she walked into the Violet Citadel, the first two looking as panicked as their usual flat expressions allowed and the last one looking frantic.

“The fel happened to you?!” asked Ilana, grimacing as she poked Lidya’s shoulder and looked at the blood on her finger – how she was seeing it, Lidya had decided to stop wonder.

“Hungry felbats happened to me!” replied Lidya, slapping Khadgar on the chest with the back of her hand and glaring hard enough that she swore she could have set him on fire with it. “They ate the poor gryphon you gave me, then tried to eat me, and once I was done killing them, _nagas_ took their turn trying to kill me. _A lot_ of nagas. I almost drowned!”

“You should have telepo–” started Khadgar before another slap had him step back and stop before the end of his sentence.

“How long have you been out of mana?” asked Varian when the others didn’t say anything else, stepping away to join one of the tables lining the walls and grabbing, from seemingly behind a pile of scroll, a glass of water.

“About four days and a half,” she replied, thanking him as he handed it to her and drowning it in two sips. “There were a lot of nagas, as I’ve said.”

“I’m sorry,” said Khadgar, sounding sincere, “if I had known...”

“Yeah, whatever. I didn’t die, right?”

That didn’t seem to calm anyone down, but they let her walk more fully into the room and Varian went to refill hes glass without prompting, which she found highly strange but the other two didn’t seem to find it so, so she kept quiet and drank again once he was back and had handed her the glass again.

“So,” she sighed after everyone had sat down around a table, “no trace of Vargoth this side of Azeroth. What are we supposed to do now?”

“We keep looking,” replied Khadgar in a low voice.

“And hope that he’s _still_ on Azeroth.”

The archmage nodded gravely without looking at her.

She wasn’t particularly mad at him, but she was mad, that was for sure, and she needed to lash out at someone, and although she liked Khadgar a whole lot and didn’t want to hurt him in any way, he was the only member of the council she was close enough to speak in any way that wasn’t strictly polite, and the only other person she could have yelled at was Ravandwyr, who was absolutely _miserable_ because of what was happening, and Lidya wasn’t cruel enough to swoop down to that level.

She actually let Ravandwyr be mad and yell at her. He needed it and she was happy to help in any way.

“We need to send more people,” she said after a moment, “ _spies_.”

“I can’t spare anyone,” replied Varian with the kind of graveness she only had seen on his face on very rare occasions.

The last time, she had been sent to Pandaria shortly after.

“I can’t tell you more, but spies are out of the question. You’ll have to do with what you already have thanks to the Kirin Tor.”

“But it’s not enough!” she immediately replied with maybe a little too much agitation.

“Sorry.”

Gritting her teeth, Lidya nodded once, slowly, and got up.

“I’ll go visit the infirmary then,” she announced before bowing to Varian and blinking away.

  


  


***

  


  


“Rumor’s that he’s going crazy now that she’s mad at him,” loudly whispered Kayn to Belath.

Belath snorted even louder and Lidya did her best to pretend she couldn’t hear them.

Why the two blood elves were following her no matter where she went – especially considering that she was at A Hero’s Welcome right now, which was supposed to be _Alliance only_ – she had no idea, but Ilana had disappeared the week before, Meryl had almost died during the night and, truthfully, Lidya hadn’t needed a drink this badly since the campaign in Northrend, so she ignored them instead of setting them on fire.

“Marius’ pet is taking bets.” continued Kayn.

“How long did you bet on?”

“A week,” he replied, “and I’m gonna _win this_. Elerion is on it with me.”

This time, Belath chuckled.

“So you’re using a spy on the inside. Does Allari know this?”

“You know she doesn’t, or she’ll have my head, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt me, right?”

Laughing, Belath clinked his glass against Kayn’s and they drank together while the content of Lidya’s own glass was starting to boil under her eyes.

Slowly breathing out from her nose, she gently let go of her glass and turned on her stool to face the two demons hunters.

They were already looking right at her.

“What the fel are you talking about?” she asked when they didn’t say anything.

“You know exactly what we’re talking about,” said Kayn, an amused smirk on the corner of the mouth, “there’s a ball coming, isn’t? To celebrate a small man.”

Lidya frowned. “A small man?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, doing a weird ‘keep going’ motion with his hand while understanding passed over Belath’s face and he started to nod.

“Ah yes!” he said, “ _that_! Elerion is right, it’ll work.”

“What?” asked Lidya, feeling more confused as the seconds passed.

“You know!” insisted Kayn, his hand gesture becoming more insistent, “the winter thing!”

For another full three seconds, Lidya was lost, but then she remembered what time of the year it was and everything was suddenly clearer – and ten times more confusing too, strangely.

“Are you talking about Winter Veil?”

“Yes!” replied Kayn, nodding – and Lidya swore she had never seem him or Belath so agitated and _normal_ before. “There’s a ball, and it’s going to make me win.”

“What’s the price?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he replied.

“And what does it have to do with me?”

“You’ll be invited, and you’ll go, and that’s that.”

Belath nodded sagely next to him and Lidya, instead of replying, turned back to face the bar and ordered a new drink on them, deciding that for now, alcohol would suffice to put an end to most of her problems.

  


  


***

  


  


“I still can’t believe I had forgotten about Winter Veil,” muttered Lidya while Ravandwyr was making one strand of her hair just a tiny bit longer before trapping a tiny pearl over it.

Her hair was shinier than she had ever seen it with all those pearls in it, but thankfully Ilana was standing right next to her in her completely backless and sparkly dark purple dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. In the right light, the dress’ dark fabric even blended with the color of her skin, leaving the impression that the elf was simply naked, and Lidya couldn’t wait to see the nobles’ reaction to this.

“Everyone has been talking about it for _weeks_ now,” said Ravandwyr, “but I can understand that you had other things on your mind.”

Like running around Azeroth like a headless chicken, looking for Vargoth and killing demons that were still trying to invade other parts of the world.

“You should be happy we were here to get you a dress and all,” said Ilana, squinting at her reflection in the huge mirror they were all facing, putting on earring after earring.

She had taken her blindfold off for the night and strangely the large scars running down her face, three on each side, starting on her forehead and going down to her cheekbones, made her all the more striking.

She was gorgeous, and Lidya had to admit that she was just that tiny bit jealous.

“Yeah, thanks for that by the way.”

“No problem.”

“Are you sure about those shoes?” asked Ravandwyr, putting one last pearl in her hair before taking a step back and looking up and down at her reflection.

“Trust me, it’s better than the last ones I wore,” she replied, hiking her dress up just high enough that she could peer down at her trusty boots. They looked really out of place compared to the rest of her outfit, and there was a stubborn stain on the toes of her right boot that might have been demon blood she couldn’t get rid of, but the dress was hiding everything and as long as she didn’t have to get up or down stairs, no one would be the wiser.

She could dance in those shoes, but that was stupid to think about that, so she told herself that she was only wearing those shoes in case of an attack or something like that.

“Alright then,” said the high elf, “I guess you’re ready to go then.”

“You’re sure you want to stay here?” asked Lidya, turning around to face him.

He smiled and nodded.

She had asked him to be her plus one when she had received the invite, but he had politely declined and said that he preferred to celebrate Winter Veil in Dalaran. Lidya hadn’t insisted because she knew the high elves celebrated that kind of holiday together, but she had agreed when he had proposed to help her get ready.

“Okay, but if you want to crash the party at any point, don’t hesitate.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, and don’t do anything Ilana wouldn’t do.”

Ilana snorted, put the very last earring on the tip of her right ear and winked at her reflection before turning to them, a smirk on the lips.

“Trust me, if she starts to get as wild as me I’ll be sure to call my Illidari for help.”

Lidya rolled her eyes and grabbed Ilana by the elbow, starting to cast a teleportation spell.

  


  


***

  


  


They met with Khadgar right in front of the Keep. His eyes were sparkling as he looked at all the decoration all the around them and Lidya let him take it all in – and pretended that she couldn’t see Ilana do the same – before she was pushing the both of them in the direction of the Keep, where what looked like the entire city was going.

A servant going around the room with drinks asked them if they wanted some as soon as they walked into the ballroom, which Khadgar politely declined and Lidya accepted while Ilana was grabbing two drinks and drowning them immediately.

“It doesn’t taste so bad,” she said, grabbing another drink from a passing servant and taking a slow sip of that one. “Now, I need to find Elerion and Jace, we have some differences to settle over a bet, yell if you need me.”

And, without waiting for an answer, Ilana started to push her way through the thick crowd, either not noticing or not caring about the weird looks she was getting.

“Those Illidari really are something,” chuckled Khadgar while Lidya watched her go.

Turning to him, she was surprised to realize that he was watching Ilana go too, with a particularly intense look in his eyes, and for one second, she almost said something – but then she realized that with all the unsaid things hanging between them, it would be hypocritical. Khadgar was polite enough to not say some things about Lidya out loud, so she would be too.

“I should go after her, I have some stuff to settle with this Elerion.”

“You _really_ shouldn’t get involved with their nonsense,” replied Khadgar.

“ _I know_ ,” smiled Lidya before marching right after Ilana.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t a tall and dark Illidari, so people wouldn’t let it go smoothly if she started to push everyone out of her way, and after only five minutes it was clear that if she ever met Ilana again during the night, it was because the Illidari would have found her, so Lidya finished her drink instead and started looking around to see if there was anyone she knew.

Magistrate Solomon, elected ruler of her hometown, got to her before she could even realize that it was him and not some stern noble like there were so many here in Stormwind.

“Miss Appleton!” he exclaimed, smiling brightly as he joined her side, “You are just the person I was hoping to see. We have much to talk about.”

Nodding, Lidya followed him toward the side of the room, where it was easier to hear him speak and less people were stepping on their toes – and how glad she was for her boots just because of that.

  


  


***

  


  


People were dancing by the time Lidya parted way with Magistrate Solomon and she was absolutely famished but it was now easier to walk around the room since everyone was either in the middle of it dancing, or on the side, watching and not moving much.

It still took her five good minutes to locate and join the buffet, because the room was _huge_ , but so was the buffet and she immediately went for the salmon on toasts lookalikes. She’d have to bribe the cook for the recipe before leaving.

“Good evening,” said someone behind her shortly after, just as she was stuffing a muffin into her mouth.

Swallowing with embarrassment, Lidya slowly turned to discover a scowling Varian – but that was usual. What was unusual, however, was how he looked shocked before looking away when she smiled at him.

“Good evening, High King,” she said, bowing respectfully. “We meet again at the buffet.”

“Indeed,” he replied, looking back at her and his frown morphing into something a little less angry and a little more confused. “You look happy.”

“That’s because I’m in an excellent mood,” she said, grabbing one of those salmon things she liked so much and handing it to him, “I had a very long chat with Magistrate Solomon that went exactly as I wanted it to go.”

“Really?” he asked, looking down at her hand before delicately grabbing the hors d’oeuvre and gently biting into it. Lidya patiently watched him eat it like it was something to be appreciated. “What were you discussing?”

“That’s a surprise,” she replied, her smiled growing bigger as she handed him another sort of appetizer and watched his scowl almost totally disappear, “but I’m sure you’ll like it once you finally get to know. What about you? Is it the ball that got you into such a sour mood.”

“Yes,” he replied darkly, although the effect was a little ruined when he started to chew on the appetizer and the line between his eyebrows disappeared. “Although my night is starting to get better, I have to admit.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Would you like to join me for a dance?”

Instead of a smile and a nod, like she had been expecting, Varian froze and Lidya felt like her internal temperature had suddenly dropped.

She knew what having ice cursing through her veins felt like, and the feeling was a little too close as Varian slowly turned to the center of the room where everyone was still dancing, before turning back to her.

“You want to dance?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard right.

“Well,” she started, nervously reaching for her hair before she remembered that she couldn’t touch it because of all the pearls, “last time you said that if I brought good shoes… I mean, I realize now that I said it that it was probably a joke–”

“Not at all!” he cut her, his eyes suddenly looking a lot bigger than usual as he took half a step in her direction, close enough that he _had_ to be able to feel her warmth. “I was serious, and I’m sorry for my reaction, you just took me by surprise. Let’s go dance.”

Nodding, Lidya took his hand when he offered it and followed him toward the center of the room, not quite registering that people were moving aside to let them pass and all staring at them, too confused by what had just happened.

She came back to her senses when he faced her, put his free hand on her waist and stepped closer, his eyes on her. She put her hand on his shoulder and followed when he took the first step, feeling like she was having an out of body experience.

Thankfully, she thought, _someone_ had taught her how to dance – because Archmage Draerin hadn’t wanted his apprentice to shame him in social situations – and she was able to follow Varian, who, of course, was an excellent dancer.

She would have been extremely surprised if it hadn’t been the case. He was royalty, after all, and she had seen him move around a battlefield. He was quick, agile and elegant in everything, so it was only logical it also applied to dancing.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” said Varian after a while, his eyes turned to a point over Lidya’s left shoulder.

She could feel the tension in his shoulder under her hand and couldn’t help but feel just a little reassured that she wasn’t the only one nervous.

“It’s fine,” she replied, reaffirming her grip on his hand and meeting his eyes straight on, “it was probably very impolite of me to ask you to a dance.”

He chuckled, relaxing a little. “Probably, but I’m glad you did because I wasn’t about to.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were mad at me… and it sounds stupid said out loud.”

“It does,” she laughed softly, “but it’s fine. I know that my reactions can be a little intense sometimes, and I apologize for making you think I was angry at you. Things have been tensed lately and it affects even the best of us.”

She watched him repress an amused smile and let herself relax for good.

It was strange how easy it felt to dance with him, but it was Winter Veil and she was in a good mood, wearing a dress that did her a lot of favors and she was not about to ruin any of that for herself. This close she could see the splash of blue in his otherwise gray eyes, the detail of his scars, shadowed by his long and thick eyelashes as they passed under a chandelier, the way he seemed to frown almost automatically before relaxing his face again, as if he remembered that he had nothing to worry about for now as an afterthought. His full lips were slightly pursed and Lidya quickly looked away, because staring at someone’s mouth never brought anything good to the situation, and concentrated instead on what was right in front of her eyes: his chest.

It was probably a bad idea too, especially since the soft shirt he was wearing wasn’t covered with plate for once and didn’t leave much to the imagination, but a little voice in her head was telling her that not making the best out of such a nice chest by looking away would be wasteful. The voice strangely sounded a lot like Ilana.

It _was_ a _really nice_ chest.

“Where did you learn to dance?” asked Varian, breaking her out of her contemplation.

She looked up, met those blue-gray eyes again, and took a second longer than she usually would have to reply.

“My mentor in Dalaran. He didn’t want me to embarrass him in public.”

“A high elf, right?”

“Yes, they’re the only ones crazy like that.”

Varian snorted. “You should see the House of Nobles on a Monday morning.”

“I’d really rather fight the Legion, I think.”

“Me too,” he laughed, softly, his chest almost touching hers, “me too.”

Something passed between them, Lidya could feel it. Something close to what she had felt but pushed down hard that day on the Broken Shore, when she had jumped down on him and tried her best to save his life. Something that made her feel warmer than usual and almost had her miss a step in their dance, but while she bumped against his chest, Varian managed to step back and not have them fall, and she couldn’t help but smile back when he beamed at her.

She didn’t think she had ever seen him smile this much in her entire life except for on that one painting.

She also suddenly remembered very distinctly what his lips had felt like against hers. What _other parts_ of him had felt like against and _in_ her.

Maybe he was remembering it too, or he could just read it in her eyes, because this time he was the one missing a step and almost sending them crashing against the couple right next to them – who turned out to be Ilana in her tiny sparkly dress and a worgen with an eyepatch who was saying something that was making the elf laugh out loud at the ceiling.

“Who is that?” asked Lidya, eyes on the worgen, before she could think about how asking that kind of question would surely break the moment between them.

“With Ilana?” asked Varian, pushing her just a tiny bit closer to his chest – proving that the moment wasn’t over yet – “Lord Darius Crowley.”

Lidya abruptly turned back to Varian, before doing a double take of the worgen.

“This man is _Darius_?” she asked, most of her private conversations with Genn flashing before her eyes.

“Yes,” calmly replied Varian, the ghost of a smile on his face, “and I’m not going to ask why you say his name like that but that has something to go with Genn, right?”

“If this is the Darius who tried to overthrow him and was sent to prison, and I am pretty sure it is him, then yes.”

“Alright,” replied Varian as the song playing came to an end.

The High King stopped dancing, but held on to her and kept his eyes firmly turned on her instead of letting go, and when the next song started playing, something with a much faster beat, he simply started to dance again, leading her to a much faster dance that required them to be a lot closer than before.

By the end of _that_ dance, Lidya’s head was spinning, she felt like Varian’s heady perfume was the only thing that she would ever be able to smell for the rest of her life and she realized, belatedly and only after he let go of her and bower politely, with a private smile, that everyone around was clapping for them.

Dazed, she offered a bow to Varian first, then to their audience, before accepting the arm he was offering her and letting him lead her through the crowd, back to the buffet.

“That was nice,” he commented as a group of noble men and woman passed and complimented him.

“It was,” she replied, turning to face the buffet so it was easier to pretend no one was staring uncomfortably at her.

She pretended to consider the food displayed in front of her and, with panic, started to think about what to do or say now. Varian was standing close enough that he actually brushed against her arm when he grabbed an appetizer, making her shiver a little, and while she was far from unhappy about it, people were staring and she wasn’t stupid.

This was _Varian Wrynn_ and she was no one, at least where it counted. Him having two dances with her should be where it ended, but she was surprised to find that he had other plans when a woman in an obviously _very_ expensive dress approached, asked him for a dance and was gently turned down.

“I wanna stay here,” he told Lidya with a shrug and the tiniest smile when she turned to him after the other woman had left and sent him a surprised look.

“Really?”

“I still have a dance or two in me, if you’re up to it.”

There was something glimmering in his eyes – something she didn’t want to look too closely at – that made her nod and admit to herself that she was _very_ up to it.

  


  


***

  


  


“I can’t thank you enough for tonight,” said Varian four hours, seven dances and too many secret smiles later.

Lidya still had a hard time realizing that all of that had happened – that even when she had been dancing with Anduin, Khadgar and even Ilana, he had stayed in her line of sight and had joined her as soon as she was off the dance floor.

He hadn’t danced with anyone else the entire evening.

“Thank _you_ ,” she replied, slightly bowing more out of habit than anything else.

He gave her that private smile he had given her during all of their dances instead of answering and for one, heart stopping second, Lidya could see herself gently reaching up to cup his jaw between her palms, get on her tiptoes, and kiss him while gently pushing him back against a wall.

There were still some guests, although almost everyone had left already and they were alone in a corner of the giant ballroom, but Ilana was waiting for her and undoubtedly watching them, and with the way Varian was looking at her and the light shined down on his hair and eyes, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop if she started kissing him so, with effort, she gave him a private smile too, took a step back and offered him her right hand.

“If you ever need a dance partner again,” she said.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied before bowing with a flourish, gently grabbing her offered hand and pressing his lips against her knuckles for a second, all in the same movement.

Lidya felt her cheeks color when her eyes met his a moment before he let go of her hand and straightened up, and she forced herself to take another step back as her face broke into a stupid grin that she didn’t want to show.

“I’ll be back in Dalaran in three days,” he said, his eyes not leaving hers.

“Okay,” she weakly replied, nodding, “I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” he repeated before starting to nod too.

She looked at him – took him in one last time under the chandeliers’ light and in his jaw dropping outfit – for one more second before turning around and hurrying toward Ilana, who had a wicked smirk on and had been very clearly spying on them.

She didn’t say anything when Lidya joined her though, only lightly patted her shoulder.

  


  


***

  


  


The next morning, Lidya was standing in full armor at the top of a cliff in Highmountain, watching as an undead man loudly bickered with an Illidari in Demonic. She had no idea what they were saying, but from what she had gathered about Tehd and Marius the few times she had fought big and powerful demons with them, it probably wasn’t pretty.

“Do you want to talk about Varian?” asked Ilana as she walked up next to her and started to watch the two of them too.

“Not at all,” replied Lidya, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Great, neither do I.”

And that was that.

“What are they arguing about?” asked the mage after a long moment when Marius started brandishing his glaives near Tehd’s neck – who didn’t look impressed or nervous _at all_.

“They’re fighting over the correct temperature to cook a naga and make it eatable.”

Lidya turned to Ilana and sent her a horrified glance.

“Isn’t that cannibalism, in a way?”

Ilana shrugged a shoulder, still looking at Tehd and Marius. “You could say that, yes, I guess.” She didn’t look bothered by that in the slightest. “Is this a good place to set up a camp?”

For a second, Lidya’s mind refused to move on from the naga thing, but then she remembered that she was actually here on business.

“Yes, I think this is the best we can do. Was that all you needed me for?”

“Khadgar said you wanted me to come to Val’sharah with you.”

“That would be nice, yes.”

“I wish I could but I hear it’s Malfurion asking for us and I don’t want to have to stab him, so I’m going to pass on that, however,” – she turned to face Lidya and put a hand on her shoulder, slightly bending at the waist so they were eye to eye – “promise me to be careful, druids always mess things up and disappear when it’s time to clean.”

“I know, but it shouldn’t be this bad this time.”

Ilana raised an eyebrow, making her chuckle.

“I’ll come and get you if it gets too messy anyway, so be ready.”

“I’m always ready to beat people up,” replied Ilana – which Lidya had never doubted.


End file.
